Bobby Sands Poem by Randy McClave

Bobby Sands, Bobby Sands
About the leader, with praying hands,
Did the people understand
About the hero from their land.
I wonder if anyone can still recall
The day that he did fall,
Oh drawl.

Bobby hoped, Bobby hoped
With decisions he had coped,
For the reason that he had died
For his people and their pride.
Did he shed just a single tear
When they said his death was near,
Oh dear.

Bobby's heart, Bobby's heart
Did they take his words as a farce,
When he said that he would die
While trying to earn his people's pride.
Did they understood when he had said
That soon, he would be dead,
Oh dread.

Bobby's dead, Bobby's dead
From starvation from refusing to be fed,
Now he's 6 foot under in the grave
By trying to free the Irish slave.
He stood for what he did believe
He wanted to make the Irish free,
Oh me.

Bobby's tortured, Bobby's pain
All he took in a losing game,
So much he said all you gave
So the Irish would be free again.
All that he had was just a dream
Freedom for ire of the green.
Oh Queen.

Bobby Sands, Bobby Sands
Now the world understands,
About the hero and who he was
And what he stood for, just because
But, now he's dead in the grave,
I am so sorry for the Irish slave.
Oh brave.

Randy L. McClave